Cops and ... Lovers?

by Linda Castillo

  As Nick watched her stalk toward her bedroom, he realized all he had to do now was figure out a way to keep his hands off her for the next few hours.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

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  Nick knew taking Erin to the Pioneer Motel wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. But mistakes seemed to be his specialty when it came to her. Considering the electric attraction that arced between them every time they were within earshot of each other, he was probably setting himself up for a night of frustration at best. But what else could he do? Walk away when it was now clear that someone was trying to hurt her? Nick had never been good at walking away—even when it was the smart thing to do. For the life of him he couldn't think of a safer place for her. He couldn't let her stay at her apartment. He couldn't take her to his house. So he'd opted for the Pioneer Motel—and a long, long night.

  Located off the highway on the outskirts of town, the motel offered obscurity and the kind of anonymity that would buy them safety until the U.S. Marshals arrived. All he had to do was get through the next few hours without touching her. That shouldn't have been a problem, considering she was frothing at the mouth to get at DiCarlo.

  "Nice place," she grumbled, tossing her overnight bag onto one of the double beds.

  He locked the door behind them and flipped the dead bolt into place. "Welcome to Logan Falls's version of a five-star hotel."

  Without looking at her, he inched a curtain aside and peered into the parking lot. Dusk had settled, but the sodium vapor lights hadn't yet come on. The parking lot was empty, except for a rumbling semi rig and an old station wagon. He should have been relieved there wasn't a Lincoln Continental with Illinois plates idling within plain sight. But he had been a cop long enough to know DiCarlo wouldn't be subtle when he decided to make his move.

  Nick's unease had grown steadily stronger since he'd spoken to Frank just over an hour ago. Every time Nick thought of DiCarlo, and the man's reputation for violence, the hairs at his nape prickled. Every time he thought of DiCarlo getting his hands on Erin, that same uneasiness burgeoned into a cold fear that sat in his gut like a chunk of ice.

  She was one of the most maddening, persistent people he'd ever met. How was it that the same woman who'd brought so much light and happiness into his daughter's life had brought so much tumult to his? She was impulsive. Headstrong. Courageous. Fallible. And more vulnerable than she would ever admit. How could he let himself care for a woman who planned to single-handedly bring down Chicago's most ruthless mafioso?

  But, Lord, he didn't think he could stay away from her much longer. She appealed to him on a level that made him feel a little crazy—and in way over his head. Since the day she'd walked into his office and given him that cool once-over with those feline green eyes, Nick had been tied up in little knots. How was he supposed to deal with her when every time he looked at her all he could think of was how right it felt when he held her in his arms?

  "Look at this."

  Turning away from the window, he glanced at her and felt his mouth go dry. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop opened in front of her. She'd changed into faded jeans and an old T-shirt before leaving her apartment, and the clothes clung to her in all the wrong places. Her hair was drawn back in a ponytail, revealing her slender neck and delicate jawline. He had the insane urge to go to her and run his tongue along her throat just to see if she tasted as good as she looked.

  Gritting his teeth against the annoying rush of blood to his groin, Nick approached the bed. "What do you have here, McNeal, access to the Illinois Crime Lab Database?"

  "Better." She shot him a superior smile. "A database still under development. It tracks the movement of known criminals, namely Mafia types. The big, mean dogs."

  "Your favorite kind," he said dryly. "I'm not even going to ask how you got into that databank."

  "You probably shouldn't." Her fingers danced over the keys. "Knowing you, you'd probably want to arrest me."

  Scowling, Nick glanced down at the screen, where Vic DiCarlo's name blinked. "Our boy's been busy."

  "A subsidiary of one of his corporations owns a Learjet. Modified fuel tanks for long hauls." She tapped a key, and the screen scrolled down. "A day after the warehouse shooting, his personal pilot filed a flight plan from New York to London. From there they flew to Sicily."

  "Interesting destination."

  "Family reunion, no doubt."

  "Or a funeral."

  Erin's finger quivered slightly when she hit another key. "Interesting perspective, Chief. But Sicily would also be a good place to rehab if you'd been shot."

  "Just what do you plan to do with this information?" he asked.

  "Use it to get DiCarlo off my back."

  "What are you going to do, hit him over the head with your laptop?"

  She looked up from the monitor and frowned. Her eyes were so clear and earnest that for a moment he thought he might do something stupid, like lean forward and kiss her until she forgot all about Vic DiCarlo.

  "The computer says DiCarlo is in Sicily," he said instead.

  "I think he's back in the States," she said. "He knows the feds are watching, so he did it secretly. No flight plan." She paused. "I think you and I should put our heads together and figure out a way to flush him out."

  Anger unfurled in his gut, but Nick curbed it. It wouldn't do him any good to snap at her. He'd already tried that and it hadn't worked. Maybe he could shock her into believing the mob didn't mess around when it came to revenge.

  "You shot his son, Erin. DiCarlo won't let it go. He's not going to forget about it."

  "If DiCarlo wanted me dead, I wouldn't be here."

  "Maybe he doesn't just want you dead. Maybe he wants to hurt you the way you hurt him. You know his reputation when it comes to cops. If he decides to make an example of you, there won't be enough of you left to bury." She started to speak, but Nick silenced her by raising his hand. "Do us both a favor and let the feds handle this."

  Unfolding her legs, she rose quickly and crossed to the other side of the room. "I'm not going to walk away."

  Nick reached down, punched the power button on her laptop and closed the case. "If I have any say in the matter, you will."

  She glared at him. "Don't let your philosophy on female cops cloud your judgment, Chief."

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  "I mean that misplaced sense of honor of yours that cringes at the thought of me getting into a tight spot with DiCarlo. Admit it, Chief. For all your enlightenment, there's a part of you that thinks women and police work don't mix."

  A kick of anger surged through him. "Recklessness and police work is the mix that chafes me."

  She laughed sharply. "Right. That's why you nearly blew a gasket when I took down those two suspects during the Brass Rail robbery."

  "Your being female has nothing to do with it."

  "Hector would have gotten a pat on the back, a gold star and a free beer. He sure wouldn't have gotten assigned to the school crosswalk—"

  "Hector wouldn't have risked his life on two small-time bums who would have been picked up by the highway patrol within the hour."

  "I'm not going to run away from DiCarlo just because the thought of me taking him down grates on your male sensibilities."

  Nick's temper uncoiled. He was across the room, his fingers closing around her arms, before he even realized he had moved. "You want to know what's wrong with that picture, McNeal?"

  She stared at him, surprise and a hefty dose of anger suffusing her face. "Let go of me."

  "DiCarlo isn't some two-bit hood. He's cunning and he's ruthless. He's got an army of mindless goons just waiting for the chance to cap a cop. Call me a Neanderthal if that makes you feel better and helps you justify your need to make amends with your conscience, but I'm not going to stand by and let you get yourself cut up into little pieces in the name of decorum."

  The color drained from her face, but her expression remained fie
rce. "I'm a police officer, Nick. I go after the bad guys no matter how scary they are."

  "You're a powder keg, and you don't have the good sense to know when you're out of your league."

  "We're not going to agree on this."

  "Evidently."

  She took a step back, but Nick went with her. "There's a difference between courage and taking needless risks just because you've got a score to settle with your conscience," he said.

  "You can't handle my being a cop, and you've let that affect your actions when it comes to me." Erin's back bumped into the wall with a thud, stopping her backward progression.

  "Maybe I can't handle it. But maybe you can't, either, McNeal. Maybe you're in this as deep as I am. Maybe we're both in so far over our heads that we don't know up from down." He stopped just short of touching her with his body. The restraint cost him, but he didn't let her know it. He desperately needed the upper hand, but knew with the certainty of a sailor watching his ship go down that he was about to lose that as well.

  Never taking his eyes from hers, he reached for her hands and drew her to him. "I care about what happens to you, Erin. I didn't want to. I didn't want a lot of things to happen when it came to you. But they have. I'm not going to let you go after DiCarlo."

  She was so close he could smell the warm, enticing scent of her, feel the heat coming off her, the electricity jumping from her body to his. Slowly, he eased her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

  "Don't," she said breathlessly.

  "Don't what? Worry about you? Don't care about you? Don't kiss you?"

  He didn't miss her quick intake of breath. Her eyes widened when he took her fingertips into his mouth, and Nick knew then he wasn't the only one hanging on to control by a thread.

  "Don't do something you're going to regret," she said.

  "I already have." Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her throat, marveling at the silky feel of her flesh, wondering what it would be like to take the same track with his tongue.

  She stared up at him, her cheeks suffused with color. "Funny, Nick, I never had you pegged as a risk taker."

  "That's not the first time you've been wrong about me, is it?"

  "I don't want to get in over my head."

  "You already are." He smiled at her. "But you're not alone. But that's what risk is all about, isn't it?"

  Her eyes darkened with the realization of what they both knew would happen next. "Why is it that getting any closer to you is the one risk that terrifies me?" she whispered.

  "Maybe because we both know how good it's going to be. Maybe because we both know things won't ever be the same." He barely heard his own words over the drumming of his heart. Desire and a thousand other emotions he didn't want to deal with tangled inside him until he thought he would explode. He wanted her so badly he ached. He feared what it would do to him if he kissed her, if he totally lost his head and tried to seduce her.

  Bracing his hands on either side of her, he leaned forward to kiss her. Just one kiss, he told himself, then they could sit down and discuss the problem like two adults. Cops, for Pete's sake. Nick would convince her to go with the nice U.S. Marshals. Erin would agree. The feds would bust DiCarlo. It would be over.

  But the instant his lips touched hers, his tidy plans flew into disarray. The contact stunned him. The power of the kiss shook him to his foundation. The world shifted beneath his feet when she opened to him. He dug deep, plundering the velvet interior with his tongue. Marking her. Possessing her.

  "I'm pretty new at this risk-taking stuff," he whispered. "Why don't you show me just how good it is?"

  Her body went fluid against him, and Nick forgot about control. He was tired of fighting what he'd wanted since the moment he'd laid eyes on her.

  Moving against her, he kissed her hard. Her mouth. Her throat. He trailed kisses lower, his tongue lashing her flesh, tasting, savoring. He smelled the sweet, exotic scent of her perfume tempered with the heady aroma of sweat from her recent workout. The combination drugged him. Urgency heated his blood, burning him until he couldn't bear it.

  Reaching around her, he slipped the band from her hair and watched it tumble like fine silk over her shoulders. "I love your hair," he said. "I want to see it, feel it. I want to get lost in it."

  His hands trembled uncontrollably as he tugged her T-shirt over her head. She hadn't worn a bra, and her breasts were small and exquisite. Her waist was so narrow he could almost span it with his hands.

  Awed by the beauty before him, he stepped back just to look at her, speechless and utterly humbled. "You're incredibly beautiful, McNeal."

  Her nipples hardened to dark peaks. Nick drank in the sight of her, felt the desire cut him. Bending, he lowered his mouth to her and suckled.

  Erin cried out, her body writhing against him. "This … is … too much," she whispered.

  Cupping her face with his hands, Nick kissed her, then pulled back to look at her. "This isn't enough," he countered. "I want more. A lot more."

  "Nick, this is crazy—"

  "Insane," he agreed, and kissed the sensitive area just below her ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

  "Uh … maybe we could just … slow down and think about it for a while."

  "I can't seem to think straight when I'm kissing you, McNeal. What do you suggest we do about that?"

  "Maybe we could wait until we're finished kissing."

  He laughed, realizing that whatever bond had drawn him to her had just tightened another notch. "We're going to finish it this time," he said.

  She gazed at him, her green eyes sparking with uncertainty. "I'm afraid we're going to make things really complicated."

  "They already are."

  "Is that good or bad?"

  "Catastrophic would be an understatement." Nick smiled anyway.

  "I was afraid you were going to say that."

  "I can't fight this any longer, Erin."

  "Maybe we could stop fighting and just see what happens."

  Never taking his eyes from hers, he slipped his fingers in the waistband of her jeans and worked them down until she was standing before him in nothing but her panties. Her legs were long and slender, with just the right amount of muscle definition. She was delicate and feminine and totally incongruous with anything cop.

  He'd forgotten how beautiful a woman could be, and what that kind of beauty did to a man. His need for her was urgent and torturous, and for the first time in his life Nick refused to consider anything even remotely related to good judgment. He refused to consider the fact that he was about to venture beyond the point of no return.

  Tentatively, she reached out and cupped him through his slacks. Setting his jaw, he moved against her, aware that the world had started to crumble beneath his feet. Fighting to slow his body, he stilled, trying to remember how he'd managed in the past. It had been so long since a woman had touched him. Since he'd even considered making love. He knew a moment of panic when he considered the possibility that it would all be over if he didn't slow things down.

  Easing her hand to her side, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and eased them down her hips. His heart beat in an ever-increasing rhythm at the sight of her curls, dark against the pale flesh of her pelvis. He felt her hands at his zipper, but he didn't stop her this time. He didn't have that much control.

  He kissed her languidly. Simultaneously, she tugged his slacks down his hips. Pulling away slightly, Nick fought off his shirt, then stepped out of his boxers. He kissed her neck, aware of his arousal nudging her belly, feeling every touch like a jolt of electricity.

  Erin started toward the bed, but Nick swept her into his arms. Kissing her deeply, he crossed the room and lowered her to the mattress. She moved against him. The sensation of her flesh against his made him breathless and weak.

  "It's been a long time for me," he murmured huskily.

  "Me, too," she whispered. "Are you … okay with this?" He knew what she was asking and suddenly it was importa
nt to him that she know he wasn't still mourning his wife. "You're the first since Rita," he said. "But I'm okay. I've had enough time, Erin. I don't feel like I'm cheating on her or anything."

  Her smile dazzled him. "I'm glad, Nick. However this turns out, whatever happens between us after tonight, I want you to know I'm incredibly glad we've had this time together."

  Her words elicited a smile—and a lot more emotion than he wanted to admit. He wanted to say more, but something made him hold back. He wasn't sure where this would lead. There were still too many issues standing between them. The only thing he knew for certain was that he cared for her, and he wanted to make love to her more than he wanted his next breath.

  He touched her cheek, loving the softness of her flesh beneath his fingertips. He touched her eyelids. Her mouth. Her lips. He groaned when she suckled his fingertips. The sweet intimacy of it made his heart race. His restraint slipped another notch. He began to shake. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers from her mouth. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips, her neck. He drank in the taste of her, wanting all of her and more, knowing in some small corner of his mind that he would never get enough.

  She gasped when he laved kisses over her breasts, then down her belly. She tensed when he reached her navel, but Nick didn't stop. One by one, his senses shut down until all he knew was the need raging through him.

  "Let me kiss you here," he whispered, moving lower.

  For a moment, he feared she would resist. Something broke free inside him when she opened to him. Her cry barely registered when his mouth found her. He savored her, knowing the moment was fleeting, telling himself that was the way he wanted it. Emotion blended with physical sensation, but he ruthlessly shoved it aside. He didn't want emotion. He wanted sex. His body craved release. Pure. Simple. Uncomplicated.

  He didn't stop when she cried out his name. Her nails raked through his hair when she crested. Nick didn't relent, but took her to the precipice a second time, knowing that very soon he would go over the edge with her. He could only hope they would both survive the fall.